


human contact

by frogbackpack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, M/M, Season/Series 10, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Deprivation, Worried Sam Winchester, but hes not rlly in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 23:23:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogbackpack/pseuds/frogbackpack
Summary: It’s not gay if ur homies sleep deprived and just needs some good ol snuggles





	human contact

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna know how I came up w the title? A song called human contact by Catey Shaw came on my playlist. I love being clever.

Dean... Dean’s somewhere. Not anywhere near the bunker, or anywhere else out of the thousand places Sam’s searches, for sure. But he’s out there, Sam knows it. Plus, it’s not like the note he found gives him much wiggle room.

He doesn’t know where the hell he could’ve gone, or how he could’ve gotten there, because, last Sam checked, he’d been in his bed, dead. But that was his handwriting. He’d know if it was forged. Hopefully.

The note didn’t help. Doesn’t help. Makes it worse, really. Sam keeps it in his pocket and reads it over and over, as if expecting it to say something different every time. 

Sam likes to think he’s a decent liar. He has to be, in this line of work, you never know what you’ll have to bullshit yourself through. And he likes to think he’s better at hiding things. Problems, mostly, sometimes injuries, if they won’t risk his life on a hunt.

But Cas. Cas is a friggin’ angel. He’s more observant than the humans who don’t notice their badges are as fake as their smiles. So Sam shouldn’t be surprised when, on his fourth day of no sleep and more coffee than should be consumed over the span of a month, especially not in less than a week, he gets practically cornered in while in the kitchen, maybe or maybe not getting more caffeinated.

“Sam,” he says, gently grabbing Sam’s newly filled cup and pushing it away. Despite all the coffee, Sam still feels like he’s seconds away from passing out. “When was the last time you’ve gotten any rest?”

Sam almost falling over seems to be enough of an answer for Cas, as he brings Sam’s arm over his shoulder and puts his own around his waist. “You really should take better care of yourself.”

“I can’t sleep. Not until I find Dean,” Sam grumbles and Cas just about barely makes it out.

“We will find him, Sam, I promise, but you cannot search for him in this state.” Sam may be six feet and two hundred pounds of muscle, but Cas has no problem practically carrying him to his room.

Sam passes out for no more than five minutes, but when he wakes up, he’s in his bed, Cas just turning around to leave. He reaches out a hand and grabs his trench coat covered arm. “Stay,” He says, barely above a whisper. “Please.”

Cas sheds his coat, before folding it and putting it over the chair by the desk. He slides in bed next to Sam, and the hunter immediately turns and wraps his arms around Cas, effectively burrying his face in his chest.

He eases into Sam’s touch, eventually running his fingers through brown locks. He places a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Sleep well, Sam.”


End file.
